Glimpse of Us

by Brutus_Rex

Summary:

A blind woman accepts The Beast's deal.

Notes:

"Willow, weep for me
Bow your tallest tree
Down to the infamous hands
Of someone no one understands
Bend your branches to the ground and hold me close"

Chapter 1: Rhododendron

The woods were dreary and foreboding. A thick fog had settled in, making it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. Through the chill in the air, almost anyone could feel a presence lurking, watching them. A young woman walked through these woods, aimlessly treading through the mud and leaves with her hands held out in front of her—not because of the dark (as some things remained dimly lit beneath the aura of the half-moon's light through the trees)—but because the girl was blind. This girl's name was Willow.

Willow had to rely on her senses other than sight to navigate the woods. She could feel the trees brushing against her as she walked, and she could smell the dampness in the air. She could hear the crunch of leaves underfoot and how her own breath shook. But she couldn't see anything.

In Willow's hopeless wandering, she stumbled over a root and fell to the ground. She felt the dampness of the leaves on her face and she could smell the earth. The ground under her hands was wet and smarmy and was surely dirtying her white dress.

Slowly, Willow stood back up to her feet. She felt disoriented and lost. She didn't know which way to go. She was scared. Willow brought her dirty hands to her cheeks and she inevitably began to cry. She was too scared to call out for help; she had no idea what things could be lurking just beyond her reach. All she could hear was the rustling of leaves in the wind and the chirping of crickets.

But then, through the sounds of the forest, Willow heard something else: A voice. Whispering to her; beckoning her to draw forth and follow it as it sang.

Willow allowed the voice to guide her. But as she tried to walk closer to the source of the deep voice, she began to feel a deep sense of foreboding.

Her thoughts were quickly interrupted when her foot knocked into something metal, and she hissed gently as she nearly tripped on it. Willow turned her head left, then right; the voice was no longer audible.

She crouched down low to feel at whatever she had just knocked into. It was smooth, cold, and metallic. It felt important, although the weeds and vines which wrapped into the crevices and clung to the thing nearly betrayed that feeling.

Willow ripped the foliage away to free the object before feeling over it further. It had some kind of handle. She couldn't tell what it could be. Nonetheless, she picked it up and stood back up to her feet. Willow continued to wander aimlessly through the forest, feeling her way past the trees.

It wasn't until she heard something not far off that she finally paused in her tracks and listened. It sounded like a horse; its hooves pounded rhythmically against the dirt as it galloped through the woods.

Willow reached out as she walked, and quickly realized that she was on a path. Finally, she called out as she could hear the horse nearing her.

"Hello!?"

No response.

Willow began to jump up and down in her spot, waving her free hand as she shouted out more loudly.

"Is anyone there?!"

The horse began to slow, and then came to a stop just behind her. Willow whipped around to face it and took a step back as it blew hot air out of its nostrils.

Willow swallowed, "Is there someone here, or am I only talking to a horse?"

There was a nervous laugh.

"What are you laughing for?" She furrowed her brows.

"Sorry, I'm a nervous laugher," A man's voice finally responded, lilting humorously, "Is something wrong?"

Willow nodded fervently, "Yes! I'm completely lost and I don't know the way back home. I'm all turned around..."

"Well, you're lucky you ran into me here! I know this place like the back of my hoof," He giggled again, "How about we light that lantern up first? I can't see a thing through this fog!"

"Lantern?" Willow furrowed her brows before she remembered she was holding something, "Oh! That's what this is... Not much use to me. But yes, let's light it."

"If you look in my saddlebag, I should have a box of matches."

Willow nodded, walking to the side of the horse and patting along until she finally located the saddlebag. After fumbling with the buckle for a moment, she opened it up and dug around until she felt a small box. Willow gently shook it to hear the matches rattling inside. She smiled lightly before slowly sliding the box open and retrieving a match from it. Slowly, she then felt along the side of the box for where she could strike the match upon.

"Everything okay?"

Willow nodded, "Yes, I'm just blind..."

"You said it, it's pitch black out here!"

She furrowed her brows but didn't respond. After a few attempts at striking the match, she heard it catch and she could feel the warmth hovering against her fingers. 

She worked quickly to feel along the front of the lantern for the small door to open up, and carefully stuck the lit match inside.

"That's much better!" The voice happily spoke.

Willow figured that must have meant the lantern was lit then, and she pulled her hand out carefully— shaking the match out just as the flame was about to singe her fingertips. Then, she closed the door on the lantern and picked it back up.

She could feel an overwhelming cold sneaking up behind her, washing a deep sense of dread over her. Willow shuddered as shivers ran up her spine.

"Now if you could please help me find my way home...," Willow hurriedly walked back around to the front of the horse and gestured ahead, "That would be really great."

"Of course, I'm a horse of my wor— Woah!"

"W-What?" Willow recoiled instinctively. 

"What's wrong with your eyes?" 

Willow furrowed her brows and squinted her milky white eyes in annoyance, "I told you I was blind. Wait, wait, did you say ho— Actually, never mind, I must have misheard you. My name is Willow."

She chose not to question him, but if she didn't know any better, could she have been talking to the...?

"My name is Fred," He bowed his head down, but realized that she wouldn't be able to see anyways and stopped, "Go ahead and hop on my back and I'll take you to the nearest town. You can't have wandered off that far."

Willow frowned a little bit, "Okay, just don't let me fall... I've never ridden a horse before."

Fred took the lantern from her to hold in his teeth and she found her way back to his side so that she could grab ahold of his saddle and hoist herself up onto his back. She felt herself begin to slip, but just as she knew she would fall, she could feel a large hand extend out to catch her by the side and quickly push her up to properly mount the saddle. The hand quickly retracted.

Willow huffed out, clearly slightly unsettled by nearly falling off. But then she raised her brows as she felt the warmth drain from her face and realized that someone who definitely wasn't Fred caught her, "Let's get out of here quickly!"

Fred giggled through the lantern in his mouth, as oblivious as Willow was about who actually helped her, "Hold on tight, I'll get you home in a jiffy!"

Fred bent around a little to mount the lantern onto the hilt of the saddle for Willow to take. Holding the hilt and lantern tightly, Willow braced herself as Fred began to quickly gallop along the trail. 

She closed her eyes, realizing that she was actually exhausted after hours of wandering lost through the woods. She figured it'd be fine to rest just a little bit on the way, and leaned down to rest her head against the horse's back as the lantern light warmed her face.

 

---

 

"Willow!"

She stirred somewhat.

"Willow, we're here!"

Willow shot up quickly, shaking her head and patting along the saddle until her hand was on the handle of the lantern.

"Already? How long was that?" She spoke groggily.

"Only about thirty minutes. I'm surprised you could sleep through that!" Fred giggled.

Carefully, Willow felt her way around as she shifted over and slowly dismounted Fred. She fixed the skirt of her dress slightly and held the lantern up in front of her.

"Thank you. I should be able to handle myself from here."

"Are you sure? I don't even wanna think about you getting lost in those woods again! Bad things in there."

Willow frowned at the thought, but shook her head, "Yes, I'm sure. Thank you again. I don't want to hold you up any longer, I'm sure you're a busy... horse..." 

She felt strange just saying such a thing, and her expression showed it.

"Glad to be of service! And remember: Buy lots of Endicott Tea at your local store!"

Willow furrowed her brows, but nodded, "Yes... bye, then." 

She waved as they each parted ways, but Fred paused and called out to her. 

"Wrong way!"

"My mistake," She quickly turned the other way and continued on.

She could hear him galloping away soon after.

Willow swallowed, stopping to listen to the things around her. It was completely silent, although there were the occasional caws of a nearby crow and the sound of wagons being pulled in the distance. These weren't familiar sounds at all.

Her heart began to race. This was not where she lived at all. She did not hear the clattering of carriages on the cobblestone, or people clustered in tight groups on the sidewalks as they chatted with one another. And the smells were different, too. This place smelled of pumpkins and cinnamon. At home, it was tobacco and lavender bushes.

Her grip on the lantern tightened as she grew overwhelmed and slowly backed away. This was not home. She didn't know where she was; she didn't know these people. She was still as lost as ever. Would anyone even be able to help her?

She began to overthink these things as anxiety took over. Her heart raced, and she could feel tears beginning to tease their way around the corners of her eyes. Nervously, she tucked strands of pale hair behind her ear and tried to bite back the tears as she tried to gather herself again.

As Willow chewed on her lip and tried to figure out what to do, she heard the same voice as before—clearer this time. The deep singing echoed from the forest, and for some reason, she felt like she should investigate it again.

She turned in the direction of the voice and carefully traveled through tall stalks of corn until she felt herself standing at the edge of the forest again.

Hesitantly, she took a single step forward and breathed in deep as she tried to get over her nerves. Finally, she walked into the forest, feeling her way along with the trees as she followed the voice. Willow tried her best not to get poked by sharp thorns or branches along the way.
 
Soon, she could hear the singing just in front of her, and it ceased as she stepped on a branch. And then she could feel eyes on her.

Willow had to steady her voice at first as she spoke, "H-Hello?"

"Willow. I have been awaiting you," A deep voice replied.

She grimaced and took a step back cautiously, "How do you know my name? Do I know you?"

"You are the bearer of the lantern. I need to know your name, don't I?"

"Have we met before...?" Willow couldn't help but recognize the voice — but she had no one to attach it to.

"Perhaps, in the past. Maybe just once. Maybe many times. Shall we consider each other acquaintances?"

Willow grew uneasy, not sure how to reply. She didn't quite trust him, but she didn't want to say it outright.

"Or perhaps we are more than that — since you took care of my lantern in my stead."

She shook her head, "Not really, I just found it out in the forest somewhere."

"And you relit it. I believe that makes you responsible for it. Hmm?"

"But I have no use for it. I'm blind."

"Ah, but perhaps it could be of use to you."

"How so?" Willow sounded confused and looked around as she could hear the voice moving. He was circling around her, but his feet made no sound against the forest floor.

"All you need to do is help me. And in return, I can help you. Doesn't that sound fair?"

"I need help finding my way home."

"No," The voice responded sternly, "I can do more than that for you. Your home is a very long way from here. In fact..." 

There was a pause.

"What?" Willow grew tense.

"I don't believe you belong there."

Willow didn't respond. 

"But, you could just give me that lamp and I'll leave you on your way. After all, you can handle yourself from here."

Willow squinted before replying bluntly, "No. This lantern seems important."

"But it has no use for you. Remember?"

"I don't care. You said you would help me. How?"

"Well then," The voice chuckled before drawing nearer, "Why don't we make a deal?"

"What kind of deal?"

"That lantern will be a symbol of our bond. I will gift you with sight. But if you allow the light to go out, your vision will be snuffed out with it."

Her eyes widened, "That's not possible. How could you possibly do something like that?"

"The Unknown works in mysterious ways, Willow."

His reply only perplexed her further.

"So I just need to make a promise to you?"

"This is more than a promise. It is an oath. A pact between souls."

This all sounded crazy to her, but Willow sighed and nodded slowly, "Okay, fine. I accept your deal."

"Excellent," His voice drew out more deeply, "Then I will follow my word. But you must uphold your end of the deal."

Before Willow could even respond, two large, cold hands laid themselves over her eyes.

"Close your eyes and do not move."

She swallowed, but obeyed and shut her eyes. There was silence at first, but then the hands lifted and there was a bright flash of white light that took over her mind— no, not her mind: her vision.

Willow was stunned as she blinked rapidly and quickly brought her own hands over her eyes in discomfort. 

"It will take some time to get used to."

"What did you do?!"

"I restored your vision, as I swore to you."

"It hurts," Willow rubbed at her eyes as they finally began to relax and readjust for the first time.

Slowly, she lowered her hands and peered up in front of her. Two large, glowing white orbs stared down at her, and that sense of dread came over her again. Then her eyes wandered along as she noticed the antlers which grew from the shadowy figure's head.

Willow knew that she had made a terrible mistake. She felt like she just made a deal with the Devil.

Chapter 2: Deutzia

Notes:

"Winds are pickin' up
The cold has come around the bend
Into the cracks of old
Wooden cottages within
The callouses of your heart
Are growing harder
Reaching out my hand
Into the darkness of your sorrow"
~ Kelsey Lu

Willow shifted under the bedsheets, the heavy duvet weighing her down comfortably and sheltering her from the cool wind blowing in through the window. She could hear the gentle fluttering of the curtains as the gust brushed against them.

She curled further, pulling the sheets in to hug around her more tightly and warm her as she shivered. Crows shrieked outside and she listened as they perched on the fence outside to chatter amongst themselves excitedly.

She furrowed her brows, sitting up to go shut the window but was stunned by the dim light coming through it. Her eyes widened. What was going on? She racked her mind as she tried to remember what happened before she woke up in this unfamiliar spot. And most importantly: Why could she see?

Looking around, Willow realized that this definitely wasn’t her room. It was set up completely different from what she had memorized. Her bed was always positioned next to her door; this one was opposite the door — bad luck. And the smells were all completely different. This place was musty and dusty — unused and left abused. She scrunched her nose when she realized the sheets and pillowcases were layered with a generous caking of dust, and she gently combed out her hair with her fingers to look at the grit clinging to the strands. She was sure it was all over the side of her face, as well.

She pushed back her sheets to look at her dress; the once soft, white fabric was now damp and covered in patches of dirt and leaves. There was no way those stains could ever come out; her mother always chided her for dirtying her clothes like this and she could practically hear her nagging voice ringing in her ears, “Fine fabrics must be treated gently.”

Willow squinted at the nightstand when she realized there was a gentle light radiating at her side. A lantern sat atop the nightstand. Almost immediately, last night’s events rushed at her like a speeding train. The timid talking horse who saved her from the woods, the unfamiliar scent of a stranger-town, and the towering horned figure whom she had made a hasty deal with before promptly fainting. She wasn’t sure if it was from fear, exhaustion, or the shock of that being the very first thing she had ever seen.

Shuffling out of bed, her feet planted on the rough wood floors and Willow strode over to the window, planting her hands against the pane and leaning forward to poke her head out and look at where she was. She could see the crows basking on the fence and the lush of trees and bushes which surrounded the stead. There was a kind of mechanical clicking and clanking that sounded like it was disturbing water, and she could make it out as coming from the side of the house. She leaned a few inches forward to where she could make out a small lake or river. Her attention was quickly caught, however, by the moss and vines which crawled up the walls of the old cottage. Yellow bulbs blossomed at the many tail-ends of the vines, swaying gently with the breeze and glittering with the morning dew which lovingly painted them.

Her eyes widened as the wood creaked just for a moment before breaking off under her hands. Recoiling, she yelped and nearly fell back in her shock, now holding the short slab of wood that just detached from what was the pane. This was no good; the wood was old and rotting from how long this place had gone without any care. Sheepishly, she set the wood down on the nightstand and grabbed the lantern. She stared down at it, and she felt as though it was staring straight back at her. Its presence was off-putting.

With a brisk pace, Willow hurried to leave the room; whoever had brought her here never bothered to shut the door. She walked through the short hall to circle around to the stairs.

Willow grimaced at the webs that hung in the corners of the ceiling and on the stair banister. She recognized them from where they hung; spiders always enjoyed building them in spots like those, and she never liked the feeling of them clinging onto her fingers when they would unknowingly brush over them. Too many times, she had walked through a spiderweb — unable to see it — and would feel a set of eight legs tiptoeing against her neck a few minutes after.

She was careful about walking down the stairs; the window pane breaking on her earlier taught her a valuable lesson about not putting her trust in an old house. Like the bed, the bottom of the stairs faced the front door: more bad luck.

When Willow finally found her way outside, she was overtaken by everything around her. The shining, running river; the bees and butterflies rushing around, hard at work; the tall grass waving at her. More bushes lined the front of the house and various different things were blooming from them. The moss and vines were heaviest from the base of the foundation. She couldn’t help herself from moving closer to get a better look at the foliage.

There was an array of pinks, whites, yellows, and blues. But her attention was most caught by the golden bells that hung from the ivy. She reached out with her free hand to caress the silky petals with her fingertips.

“Globe flowers.”

Willow was startled by the deep voice which resounded from right over her shoulder and she whipped around to look at the towering void which accompanied her in the shade.

“You!” Willow’s heart raced.

“Symbolic of gratitude—much like I have towards you for relighting my lantern.”

She let out a breath that she was holding without realizing, “It certainly seems important to you.”

The shadow tilted his head, and her attention was again drawn away from his blinding eyes and over to the tangling growths that sprouted from either side of his skull. Something about the creature was ancient, and his presence made the atmosphere heavy. It reminded her of how she felt when staring into the lantern light.

“Yes, it is very important. But not just to me, anymore.”

Willow knew he was referring to their deal, and an issue quickly came to mind, “You said that I need to tend to the lantern. But I don’t know how.”

“I will show you. But just once.”

Willow nodded, but another pressing matter clouded her thoughts, “I still need to go home. Could you not perhaps help show me the way, and I could still care for the lantern?”

“You know that is not possible,” He responded, and seemed to levitate to the side as the shadow they stood under shrank—the sun was rising higher over the trees, “You wandered a long way from home, Willow.”

“If I wandered away, then I can wander back.”

“Ah, but your sight relies on this lantern. And the only place that you can find the oil for this lantern is here, in this forest.”

Willow was already regretting this deal. She was bound to this place, tethered here by the “gift” he had given her. Could she really go home, and go back to being blind? Knowing that all of this existed around her? She couldn’t just give this up.

He spoke again, knowing she was now lost for words, “And after all: I am relying on you, who had been so kind to breathe life back into that lantern. I repaid my debt to you by giving you vision. Are you not grateful for what I have to offer you?”

She quickly shook her head, “No, of course I am. I am immensely grateful,” Willow reiterated, but her gaze fell, “There is so much. So many things to see. I’m almost overwhelmed. I am glad to know what I have been missing from my life. But now I’m terrified of ever losing this clarity.”

Like butterflies to crocodile tears, Willow gave in to his guilting.

Willow swallowed, “What may I call you?”

“I am the savior of worn-down souls; the collector of what has been lost. You may simply call me: Friend.”

There was a twinge of happiness, like a fluttering moth, in Willow’s stomach; she was caught off-guard by this. A friend? One hand tightened on the handle of the lantern at her side, while the other nervously played with the lace of her dress.

“O-Okay, friend,” A shy smile played at the corners of her lips.

“Now then, why don’t we collect some oil for the lantern? It is running low,” Willow’s new companion retreated further into the shadows to lead her to the edges of the forest, “There are many new Edelwood trees, ripe with oil. Find an axe and come with me.”

Soon after, Willow was led to a tall, rippling tree; black, viscous oil bled from its orifices like molasses. Its branches intertwined and tangled, and it reminded Willow of what her new friend’s horns looked like.

She was unsure of what to think of him at first, but she was easily convinced by his reassuring words and kind instruction. Patiently, he showed her how to hold the axe and chop away at the brittle tree and its coiling branches.

 

---

 

Willow was proud of her newfound skill; chopping the tree into small fragments was easy work with how weak and hollow it was. It appeared to be deceivingly strong, but it easily gave way under the axe. It was a tree that put up no resistance.

After heaving the oily panels along to the mill, she ground down everything she could — just as she had been instructed. Then, she collected the oil from the spout into jars that she had found in the homely kitchen. Carefully, she removed the screw cap and funneled some of the Edelwood oil into the fount.

Now, the lantern light glowed even brighter than she had seen before.

Pleased with herself, Willow mentally marked this off as one chore done for the day and decided to deal with other matters—particularly, her housing situation. It was way too messy and old for her tastes, and while she could do nothing to repair the rotting wood at the moment, she could at least try to clean up what she could.

Most of her morning and afternoon were filled with dusting, sweeping, wiping down windows, and cleaning bedsheets at the side of the river before hanging them to dry on the tall fence. She had gone inside to gather whatever old clothes she could. When she stepped out, she shrieked upon seeing a murder of crows cavorting on top of her drying bedsheets and ran over to wave them off.

She would need to put up a scarecrow to keep corvids away from her laundry in the future.

By the end of her chores, she felt no overbearing need for food. She worried that the stress from everything that had happened was causing her to stop feeling hunger—but paid it no mind in the end. She always knew when she was hungry, and her body would let her know eventually.

Willow sorted through a bunch of books sitting on the shelf in her room, but she had no use for them. She didn’t know how to read. She tossed them aside without much thought; perhaps her friend in the forest would want them.

Speaking of the devil, Willow was shaken out of her thoughts when she heard familiar singing outside. He certainly seemed to be in high spirits tonight. Willow noticed that he only ever showed up when it was dark out.

She put on a fresh change of clothes; a man’s off-white oversized sweater (formerly white but discolored by time) and a pair of loosely fitting brown trousers. She knew if her mother saw her in these clothes, she would have a fit.

Willow grabbed the lantern from her side and rushed outside to see him and show him how well she had done today. There, she saw him standing at the edge of the forest, staring back at her.

“Friend!” She called happily and hurried over as the lantern light guided her way.

“Willow,” He regarded her warmly.

She came to a stop just in front of him, smiling as she presented the lantern, “I did everything as you told me to. The lantern is filled with that oil, and I also polished it. It was very dirty before.”

“Yes, I have seen how busy you were,” Her friend reached out to place his large hand over the top of her head, and lightly patted it before quickly retracting his hand, “I am proud.”

Willow beamed, “I also cleaned up the house. Do you read?”

He found that to be an odd question, “Not often. I rarely have need.”

“Don’t you do anything in your spare time?”

“I focus on more important things.”

Willow tilted her head, “If you have the time, maybe you could read one for me?”

There was a short beat of silence, and then a nod, “Very well. Since you cannot read, I will indulge you. Your diligence has paid off; we can enjoy this night without worrying about oil.”

Willow simply nodded and wordlessly began to lead him back to her new homestead.

“Wait a moment.”

She paused and looked back at him, “Is something wrong?”

“No, but I have something for you.”

Willow perked and walked back over curiously.

From beneath his lengthy cloak, his hand extended, clutching something delicately betwixt his long fingers to be presented before her.

“What is this?”

“Flowers,” He replied matter-of-factly, “You were admiring them before, so I found you new ones.”

She blinked, but after a moment it finally registered in her head that she should take them. Quickly, her fingers took gentle hold of the flowers.

“So that’s what these are,” Willow marveled.

“Do you like them?”

She nodded.

“These ones are called Deutzia. Consider them a marking of your new beginning.”

Willow admired the pink and white petals, and nodded once again, “Thank you, friend.”

With that, they continued on to her homestead, but he had refused to go inside.

“I prefer to remain in the dark.”

“That’s fine,” Willow smiled, “We can read outside.”

 

---

 

“Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood, in brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood? Alas! They all are in their graves. The gentle race of flowers are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours. The rain is falling where they lie, but the cold November rain calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.”

He and Willow sat together by the edge of the garden. One imposing hand held the book, while another leisurely turned through the pages. The lantern and the moonlight served as the only illumination, but he had made a point to reposition the lantern to be closer to her.

As he recited the poetry from the book, Willow surrendered to exhaustion, leaning against the fence. She held the Deutzia to her chest as she closed her eyes.

Knowing that she was fast asleep, her companion silently shut the book.

 

---

 

Willow woke up the next morning like the last. Only this time, the sheets were thankfully clean, and she was no longer in that dirty white dress. Once again, she had awoken to the sound of crows outside—only this time they were perched at her window and were pecking away at it. Likely revenge for when she had chased them off yesterday. Willow thought about how she would need to make reparations with them sometime if she ever wanted to get proper sleep.

Once again, Willow spent her morning doing her new chore of collecting oil and refueling the lantern. But by the end of it, she had nothing else to do. She was bored, and she disliked the thought of this being what filled her days from now on: Chores, chores, and more chores. She sat out on the porch, her elbows resting on her knees and her chin perched atop her hands—which were stained by the oil she had touched. No matter how much she scrubbed them, the staining refused to go away. From now on, she would also wear gloves when working.

She peered into the distance, watching the occasional bunny hopping through the tall grass or squirrel climbing up a tree. She also watched the crows sitting on the fence—talking and cawing with each other as usual and occasionally turning to look at her. Willow had a feeling they were gossiping about her.

Quickly, she rose to her feet and groaned, startling the crows once again and causing them to clamor off. She was so bored that she was worrying about forest animal politics!

Grabbing the lantern, she decided to seek out some entertainment. She could only handle pastoral life for a day before needing something else to do. Willow wanted to set out and use her new eyes!

Chapter 3: False Indigo

Notes:

"A mile, a must
A thrust, a bump
It's the will to survive
It's a jolt, it's a jump"

Willow’s stomach did flips as she took her first steps along the new path. She was venturing away from the mill for the first time with her newfound sight. She was eager—albeit a little nervous—to see more of the world for herself.

The sun stood high up in the sky; it was about noon. The sky was moody and filled with clouds that drifted past the sun every so often to temporarily cast shade over the earth below.

Leaves crunched beneath her black Mary Janes, and as she walked further into the forest, less light managed to make it through the tall trees. She was grateful to have the lantern with her; it was a reliable guide that kept her on the right path. However, she found herself unsure of where she was actually going, and she became fearful about the prospect of getting lost in the forest again. Turning around, she found that the woods had closed in around her at this point, and she could no longer see the mill from which she came.

Up ahead, sheathes of light cascaded down through the openings in the canopy, like a sigil of hope—casting a spotlight upon a lone traveler. Willow swallowed her fear and picked up the pace to catch up with the stranger.

“Excuse me!” Willow called out politely, careful not to startle the other.

Turning around, the stranger came face-to-face with Willow. She gave him a quick one-over; he was a young man in a patchy suit—around her age, in his early 20s. She didn’t know much about clothes, but she knew it was a peculiar state of dress for someone in the woods. Then again—she was one to talk.

She noticed a prominent metal pin on his lapel; an owl-shaped crest with a rose at the base.

“Howdy, Miss!” He hoisted the large bag on his shoulder; a metal clanging came from inside, “Are you needin’ something?”

Willow blinked, but nodded, “Yes, I’m a bit turned around. Do you happen to know where the nearest town might be?”

“Well sure!” He chuckled, and pointed further down the trail, “Just keep on goin’ straight. You’re gonna see a lot of bends in the road—just ignore ‘em. That’ll get you right to Corvida. Careful though, it’s a tad shady. Folks ‘round those parts have sticky fingers.”

“Thank you!” Willow smiled, relieved to have met someone who actually knew their way around here, “If you don’t mind, I’m a bit curious. What are you carrying around in there?”

He straightened up, puffing his chest out and grinning—he had a gap in the front of his otherwise straight teeth, “Just an array of fine wares! I’m a merchant by trade.”

He extended a hand quickly for her to shake before she could get a word in edgewise, “The name’s Buchanan Howell! But most folk just call me Buck.”

Willow smirked, admittedly overwhelmed by his extroverted manner, “Nice to meet you. You can call me Willow.”

She took his hand, and he gripped hers firmly (a bit too firmly) to give it a strong shake.

“A pleasure, Miss Willow!”

After a few seconds too long of handshaking, Willow finally pulled her hand from his tight grasp and smiled sheepishly, “Well, thank you, but I better get going. Thank you again, Buck.”

Willow found herself struggling to make pleasant conversation.

Buck tipped his head in acknowledgment, still grinning as widely as ever, “See ya around, Willow.”

She half-waved awkwardly before they parted ways in opposite directions.

A few minutes into her walk, when the forest was darkest, Willow could feel a familiar presence. The air was heavy and suddenly carried a light fog with it. A familiar voice came from behind her.

“Willow,” Her horned companion spoke deeply, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Willow turned to face him, “I’m going to Corvida. And I don’t think; I know.”

He shook his head, “Do not play these games with me, Willow. This is dangerous; you could be putting both of us at risk. These woods are not a safe place for someone like you. You are easily misled. You think you can trust that backwater peddler?”

“He was nice! And besides, I want to know the area better. I would like to see some actual civilization. You never come to see me unless it’s dark. I’m bored!”

“But why leave? You have all you need at the mill. A soft bed, a clean river, a warm fire. An abundance of oil.”

Willow shook her head, “I refuse to submit to the monotony of endless tasks. I can only take so much before I go crazy! Let me decide for myself.”

“Very well,” He turned away and began to ominously slink back into the trees, “But know this: You will regret not heeding my word, Willow. You will come to learn that I know this place much better than you. Or him.”

With that, he disappeared into the void of the forest.

Willow huffed, and like a spoiled child, stamped a foot down on the ground in defiance, “Well, I’ll show you!”

 

---

       

The town was grander than what Willow was expecting. The buildings in Corvida were tall and dark and came to sharp points. They were overdesigned and pretentious. The walls were adorned with carvings of crows, ravens, and grackles which stared down at her; she felt like the buildings themselves were judging her.

The cobbled streets were lined with tall poles, from which serpentine lamps cast down a warm light. Those rays of warmth were the only comforting aspect of the place, however, as the architecture was not nearly as strange as the town’s inhabitants.

Large, almost anthropomorphic corvids went about their days. Willow now understood where the town got its name. The residents were dressed in the finest clothes. Suits, monocles, bowler caps, canes, whale-bone corsets, and ivory accessories. Willow recognized these to be the peak of fashion.

Willow wondered if she was going mad but reminded herself that she had likely far surpassed that point. She must already be crazy; she had met a talking horse, a horned man, and had her sight restored through the magic of a cursed lantern. Either this was real, or she was already in an asylum.

She decided to distract herself from such dark thoughts, and instead focused on the task at hand.

Willow admired some of the establishments around her; lace-and-floral tea shoppes, expensive clothes and tailors, and fine china sellers. This place was markedly bourgeoisie.

Cheers resounded from a church just across the street. A crowd clapped congratulatorily and tossed rice as a bride and groom emerged. Then, the group of birds began to excitedly peck at the rice on the ground.

Willow blinked and decided to direct her attention to something less outlandish.

However, as she walked, she couldn’t help but feel eyes on her, and she looked over her shoulder to see a pair of gentlecrows gossiping with each other from behind their black wings.

“I’ve heard about her from my fifth cousin! Chased her right off the garden fence. That human is quite the brute!”

“Oh, my goodness! No decorum whatsoever.”

“Harold, she’s looking this way.”

Willow glared at them, huffing before lifting her head and marching away. She’d had enough of these prissy birds.

After walking a few blocks, she realized that she had entered a more run-down part of Corvida. The straight cobbled ground had grown uneven, and the buildings were full of cracks that showed their age.

Treading uncertainly, a young grackle strode along the stone to pass her but carelessly bumped against her as he did.

Willow furrowed a brow but didn’t say anything. She had no desire to cause trouble over such a trivial thing, no matter how rude it was.

She continued walking, but the grackle angrily squawked behind her.

“Ey, lady!”

Willow turned on her heel to look at him, tilting her head.

“Why is your pockets empty?!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You ‘eard me,” His claws tapped against the pavement as he quickly skittered over to her, “Are ya poor er somethin’?”

Willow scrunched her nose as a frown formed on her face, “Yes, I am. What do you think you’re doing, trying to pick my pockets? Don’t you have any shame?”

"Don’t you have any money?” The grackle keened.

“I may be poor, but at least I’m richer than you in morals!” She crossed her arms.

“D’ya always stroll into other peoples’ towns and insult children?”

“I try to make it a habit.”

The urchin peered down, looking at her lantern, “Whatcha got there? A lantern? Y’know the streets are lit here, lady.”

Willow immediately grew defensive and brought the lantern out of his reach as she held it closer. She was terrified that he would try to steal that, too.

“It’s none of your business!”

“Must be valuable!”

Willow grimaced, and quickly ducked away to go into a nearby tavern; a kid wouldn’t be allowed in a bar, no matter how seedy the establishment.

She walked along to the back of the tavern, keeping her head down and still holding the lantern close. After sliding into a rickety chair at an empty table, Willow took in her surroundings again as she got comfortable in the dark corner.

Birds talked with each other loudly and merrily, enjoying drinks and games. The corvids here were dressed much more raggedly, and one even had an eyepatch. Others were noticeably scarred. A set of ravens were enjoying a particularly vigorous wing wrestling match – one was missing a wing. At another table, a pair of birds were playing a game of poker. Each of them was blatantly cheating, but neither appeared to notice the other doing so. Willow was immersed in how they seemed to pull cards out from the most unexpected places.

Just as she was getting really engrossed in this shady poker game, Willow heard a commotion outside. Curious, she grabbed her lantern before getting up and joining the small group who had the same idea about looking outside to see.

“It’s been stolen from the museum! The precious ruby ring!” A ladybird cried out.

The urchin from earlier was being shaken down by the pair of imposing constables.

“I already told ya, I don’t got nothin’ on me! Honest!” He whined.

“He’s got nothin’. Just a bunch of bottlecaps and shillings.”

“See?!”

Willow blinked when one turned and looked straight at her. Without hesitation, the officer blew on his whistle and the pair of them rushed over to her. As if by magic, the crowd that she was standing with had vanished, leaving her all by her lonesome at the front of the tavern.

“You there! Empty your pockets!”

“M-me?!” Willow suddenly laughed nervously and raised both hands to her chest in a wary way, “Officers, I can assure you I’ve never even been to a museum, let alone owned a precious ring.”

“Then you obviously have nothing to hide. Now turn out your pockets!”

Willow let out a small huff and reached down to turn out the left pocket first.

Empty.

Then the right.

As she reached into the right pocket, her brows rose reflexively and the blood drained from her face. This was definitely not here before. She looked over to the urchin. Could he have planted this here? She curled her index finger into the cold metal loop, and slowly pulled it from her pocket.

She stared at the ring in front of her. It was made of gold and boasted a large, shimmering ruby. She saw a familiar symbol on the band, but she couldn’t quite remember where she had seen it before.

“Officers, I swear this is a misunderstanding!” Willow’s voice shook.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s what they all say. You’re coming with us, jewel thief,” The constable confiscated the ring first, and then her lantern.

“Oh, please be careful with that!” Willow pleaded, her hands instantly becoming clammy.

 

---

 

Willow was begrudgingly escorted to a towering dark building with jagged edges and stained-glass windows. As she stepped in, she recognized this as a museum. The reptilian fossils inside creeped her out. She noticed a pair of birds looking at the skeletons.

“Walter, are we really descended from these horrid creatures?”

“Oh Martha, don’t be silly. Crows have always been crows. We have always been perfect.”

Willow quirked her brows but was pushed forward slightly by the end of a baton as she faltered to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“Get a move on, Klepto.”

“That’s not my name,” Willow retorted.

The only response she received was yet another prod to the back by the baton.

They led her down the hall until they reached an ajar door that led into a lavish office. It was decorated with expensive velvet furniture and wooden accents.

“This is the thief?” A tall raven questioned. His demeanor was cold and calculating, and his stature was one of superiority. He leaned on an ivory cane as he stood before the three of them.

“Yessir, caught her red-handed. Are you pressing charges?”

“Where is the ring?”

“Of course, sir,” One of them presented the ring to him, which he eagerly snatched away to immediately inspect.

Willow remained silent; perhaps if she didn’t speak or move, they would forget that she was there. She looked at the ring as he inspected it, but then his attention was drawn elsewhere.

“That. What is that lantern?”

Willow’s stomach dropped.

“She had it with her when we arrested her, sir.”

“Hm. Stolen as well, no doubt. Perhaps it would fare better in the museum.”

Willow suddenly exploded, “You stay away from it! It’s mine!”

One of the officers whacked her on the side with his baton, “Settle down, girl.”

Willow let out a loud gasp, and then a shadow of a whimper.

The raven tutted, “Who are you?”

“I was framed!”

“That does not answer my question.”

“My name is Willow, and I don’t care about your stupid ring!” She barked out, “I have no idea how it ended up in my pocket, and the lantern is being loaned to me by a friend.”

“Interesting, but I don’t really care,” The raven ruffled up slightly, looking down on her, “My name is Henry Brewster. And you, Willow, have stolen what rightfully belongs to me.”

Suddenly, he leaned down to be eye-level with her and held the ring to her face, “You see this ring? It is pure, twenty-four karat gold with a triple-grade ruby gemstone.”

Willow frowned as she stared at the ring but noticed the branding on its band once again. In an instant, she shouted in realization.

“You stole this ring!”

“Excuse me?!” He stood up straight once again in outrage, “I will not stand here and allow some lowly street-filth like yourself to accuse me of being a thief! Officers—”

“You stole this ring from Buchanan Howell! His crest is right there, on the band! He told me the people here were shady. Now I understand exactly why.”

He stared her down in silence, an expression of deep disdain painted on his feathered face.

“Hey, wait, she’s right… That is his crest,” One of the officers spoke.

They seemed to be familiar with Buck—after all, he was a traveling merchant who would visit the town every so often to sell wares that couldn’t be found anywhere else.

“Gentlemen,” Before they could think about it any further, Henry quickly spoke up, raising one wing reassuringly, “Please, allow me to speak with Miss Willow in private for a moment. There seems to have been a misunderstanding. Leave her lantern here.”

The officers glanced between each other before handing over the lantern, silently turning, and leaving the room before shutting the door behind them.

Henry set the lantern on his desk.

Henry did not speak again, and instead silently limped along to his shelf with his cane. He grabbed a bottle of wine and a pair of wine glasses, setting them on the desk behind him. He lifted his good leg to grasp the cork with sharp talons before pulling it cleanly out and discarding it.

Willow watched with uncertainty as he poured the red liquid into each glass, and he wordlessly slid one slightly in her direction. He didn’t seem to notice that all she could do was stare at it.

Henry lifted his own glass to his beak and took a slow sip from the bitter, aged wine.

“Miss Willow, I—”

Willow blinked.

“I—”

She quickly grew confused.

“I… You…”

Henry’s chest heaved, as he leaned over the desk and his pupils dilated. All Willow could do was watch him; her mouth now agape in shock. Was he having a heart attack? Should she go get someone? Should she just let nature play out its course? She needed to think fast.

An instant later, Henry slid off of the desk, dragging everything on the surface down to the floor with himself. Paperweights, inkwell, wine bottle, and lantern. Everything came crashing down, and Willow had to hold in a scream as the lantern clanked on the floor before instinctively lunging for it.

Henry toppled over himself and to the hardwood floor, where his glass also dropped and shattered loudly, its liquid collecting with the wine puddle that was already there.

The door of the lantern opened with the impact on the ground, and its flame licked against the rug on the floor before it caught. The wine served as further ignition.

Panicking, Willow grabbed the handle of the lantern to lift it out of the newborn flames and shut its door. While kneeling, she could see that the ring had rolled under the desk, and quickly pocketed it once more. A second later, the police officers burst into the room to see what all of the noise was, only to see a corpse and a blazing inferno raging on in the center of the office.

“Good God, she’s killed him!” One of them rushed over to try and pull him from the flames, while the other took off his own coat to try and fan out the flames. This only made the fire stronger.

While they were distracted, Willow ran through the open door and into the hallway.

“She’s getting away!”

As Willow made a mad dash for the museum’s front doors, she could hear claws clicking against the floor as the officers darted behind to pursue her.

Bystanders cried out in shock and terror.

“Killer!”

“My fifth cousin told me she was no good!”

Pushing through the doors, Willow’s eyes took a moment to adjust; it was dark out now. She nearly tripped down the front steps of the museum and continued to flee as she heard the whistles of the constables gaining on her.

Thinking quickly, Willow diverted into a long alleyway but cursed under her breath when she heard them still behind her.

“She went this way!”

Willow continued to run, but was soon met with a large slab of wall with no other escape. She had hit a dead end. Her heart was caught in her throat as she turned around to see the corvids approaching.

This was it.

This was the end.

She was cornered, and soon she would be arrested. They would throw her in jail, maybe even have her executed. They would definitely put out the lantern light, and then she would spend her final moments in blindness for certain. No more pastoral life, no more soft bed, no more warm fireplace, and no more flowers. Her friend was right: she was playing a dangerous game, and she was about to lose. He relied on her, and now she would fail him—

Wait, why were they turning around?

Willow stared as the officers suddenly began to flee from her, and in the opposite direction instead.

She wanted to turn around and see what was behind her, but she could practically hear her gut feeling screaming at her not to look back. Just leave. Just walk away. No, run away.

Her legs shook like jelly at first as she took a step forward, and then another. And then in an instant, she broke into a clumsy sprint once again.

As she left the town for the first time, there was a painful stitch in her sides, and she could feel hot tears streaming down her red face. She ran straight into the forest, and through her tear-blinded vision, she could make out two glowing orbs just ahead. Without hesitation, she flew into his open arms and sobbed into his chest.

She could barely get any words out, instead whimpering out loud. Her poor heart hammered in her chest, and her fingers clung to this ragged cloak.

“I-I’m so… s-so… sorry!” Willow wailed, “You were right, I-I had no idea what I was doing! I… I… d-don’t want to leave home anymore!”

She choked on her breath in between many of her words, hiccupping. Willow had always been a crybaby, but this was by far the most stressful situation she had even been in. She was at an all-time low.

He did not speak for a while, just listening to her cries and her choked apologies. He petted over the back of her pale blonde hair, simply nodding as he stared down at her.

“Now you see, Willow. The world is a hateful and unforgiving place. You are, after all, a stranger to these lands. And I can keep you safe from it.”

Without speaking, he brushed his fingers along her cheek to tuck her hair behind her ear, leaving a flower behind. Her pale blonde locks entwined with the stem of a Lily of the Valley.

Eventually, her sobbing settled down into small, feeble whimpers.

He still stared down at her. She was weak. Pathetic. So frail and in need of gentle caring and protection. Like a delicate flower whose petals would fall away if brushed against. He could keep her safe, and he knew that this would be the key to her realization that she needed him. That she needed to obey his will.

“Shall we go home, Willow?”

Willow silently wiped away her tears with the corner of his cloak and nodded without saying another word.

“Come along,” The horned one extended a hand to her, and she accepted it without thought.

Together, they walked through the dark woods hand-in-hand as the moon rose over them.

 

---

 

Willow did not ask her Friend to read her any poems or stories. When they arrived home, she gave him a single sad look before retreating back into the stead and shutting the door with care.

This was the first time that she sent herself off to bed since she had arrived here. She didn’t like it.

Willow eventually fell asleep after tossing and turning under the covers, the lantern dimly shining at her bedside. Miraculously, this was the best sleep she had gotten in a while, despite the awful day she experienced.

When she arose in the morning, she found that there were no crows cawing outside or tapping angrily at her window. Willow doubted that she would ever see a crow visiting her again.

Notes:

"And the riverbanks sings
Of the waters of march
It's the end of despair
It's the joy in your heart"

Chapter 4: Forget-Me-Not

Notes:

A shorter chapter; I've been dealing with a lot of writers block recently. Happy new year!

Willow sat by the stream, watching the flow of the water and how the snails slowly crawled over the small rocks and stones.

It had been a few days since her experience at Corvida. Since then, she had not left her homestead and instead focused on her daily chores and her newfound studies. In her free time, she was often practicing her writing and reading when her antlered friend wasn’t around.

It was lonesome business, as she saw him very rarely. She didn’t get much company in this place.

As she idly turned through the pages of a picture book, her ears perked at the sound of children not far off. It seemed to be coming from the edge of the forest closest to her.

She hesitated as she remembered what happened the last time she ventured too far from home. But this wasn’t too far of a distance this time. She would be fine, right?

Willow slowly shut her book, rising from her spot and dusting off her skirt before heading on to investigate the noise.

She listened closely to their chattering. It was a pair of boys; one young, and one slightly older. They seemed lost.

Squinting through the bushes, she could just make out their silhouettes, and called out to the pair.

“What are you boys doing all alone out here?”

The two turned to look at her quickly.

She pushed through the branches, shielding her face with her arms. But when she entered the small clearing, there was no one. It was as though they simply vanished.

Willow looked around, bewildered. There was no sign of either of the boys.

Had she finally been losing her mind due to her seclusion? One day she was fine, and the next she was hearing and seeing things that weren’t there. She shook her head, and quickly returned to the mill.

 

---

 

That night, Willow waited by the garden as usual, anxiously twirling her pale hair around her fingers and gazing down at her lap in thought. She was still bothered from seeing those children before.

“Willow.”

She looked up at the antlered one, her golden eyes locking with his glowing orbs. Her expression of worry was obvious on her face, “Friend…”

“Is something the matter?” He tilted his head.

“Well, I’m…,” She faltered just for a moment; she knew how this would sound, “I’m afraid I may be going mad.”

Her Friend moved to sit beside her, “Why’s that?”

Willow frowned as her gaze fell, “I think I’m starting to see things that aren’t there. I saw two children in the forest, and then they just… disappeared.”

There was some silence between the two; even he seemed bewildered by this for a moment.

“Ghosts aren’t real, are they?” Willow broke the silence and looked up again when she heard a chuckle in response.

“Anything is possible. This is The Unknown, after all.”

“You keep calling this place The Unknown. Why is it called that?”

“No one knows,” He responded — to which Willow simply huffed, seeming annoyed by his vague answer. She had the sneaking feeling that he did know.

She had plenty of time to ruminate on this subject. Willow had her own theory that perhaps this place was an in-between. It didn’t take a genius to understand that this was not the home world that she had come from —what, with the talking animals, magic lanterns, and other such things of that nature. This place was like it was straight out of a fairytale book.

Jolting, Willow was pulled away from her thoughts when her companion suddenly grabbed her hand. Her face flushed as she was pulled closer to him by the wrist. Before she could question him, he placed something on her open palm and carefully closed her fingers over it before releasing her.

Her heart hammered away in her chest as she shakily brought her hand back to her chest. She opened her hand to see what he had given her.

A small blue flower.

Willow looked up at him, “What is this one?”

“Forget-Me-Not.”

“That’s an odd name for a flower,” Willow blinked with interest and a puzzled smile formed on her face.

“There’s a fable. A long, long time ago, a knight was picking these flowers with a maiden. But he slipped and fell into the river, and could not swim. As he drowned, he called out to her: Forget me not.”

Willows confused expression quickly turned to a solemn one, “What a sad story.”

“Ah, but that’s all it is,” He tilted his head, “Just a story.”

“Is there a meaning to it? Besides being tragic?”

He thought for a moment, and then pointedly replied as he held up a finger, “Do not play near rivers if you do not know how to swim.”

Willow’s expression was hard to read, but she seemed amused by his confident response.

 

---

 

"Goodnight, Willow.”

She waved to him as she stood at the doorway of her home, “Goodnight, my friend. Can I expect a visit from you tomorrow night, as well?”

He gave a low bow, one long arm at his chest, “You shouldn’t.”

“Oh,” Willow frowned slightly, but tried not to let her displeasure show, “Busy with something?”

“I need to pay an old associate a visit,” He rose.

She nodded, “I understand. Thank you for coming to see me again.”

He gave a slow nod back, “Be good, Willow.”

For some reason, hearing him tell her such a simple thing made her blush, and she turned away slightly, “I’m always good… Goodnight.”

Willow quickly retreated into the house and closed the door. Once again, her heart was racing. What had gotten into her lately? She found herself getting flustered around him more and more often. Such a thing was… Well, she felt it was inappropriate to feel such things about him. She sighed, and ran upstairs to get ready for bed.

 

---

 

In the morning, Willow sat at the fireplace with a cup of hot tea. It was getting colder out with each passing day here, and she wondered whether she should seek out someplace with proper winter clothes soon.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

Willow set down her tea as she turned and stared at the door. Who could possibly be here?

She stood up and quickly strode over to open the door. Willow had expected to see someone taller than her, but then looked down. There was a child at her doorstep. She took a step back in shock.

“What in the…”

The boy was dressed in green overalls, and had a tea kettle on his head.

“Hello ma’am !” The boy waved, a frog cradled in one arm, “Do you know the way to the circus?”

Willow squinted. Was this one of the lost boys from earlier? So they were looking for a circus…

Slowly, she shook her head, “No, I’m sorry… I wasn’t aware there was a circus in town,” Willow tilted her head and brought a hand to her chin in thought, “Actually, I’ve never even been to one…”

The boy let out a loud gasp, which caused Willow to jolt.

“What?!” The boy was shocked.

“W-What?!” Willow was equally as shocked.

“You’ve never been to a circus before?!”

Willow shook her head once more, “No, I was never able to enjoy them as a child. Up until recently, I was blind.”

“That’s ridiculous! You don’t have to hear to be able to enjoy a circus!”

She squinted, “What? No, that’s not…”

Before Willow could finish, the boy took her by the sleeve and began to lead her to the forest.

“Where are we going now?” Willow raised her brows.

“Ma’am, it is my duty to make sure that you get to experience the circus!”

Willow stopped in her tracks, “I don’t need to see the circus! Are you all alone?”

“Of course not! I have Jason Funderberker.”

“Jason Funderberker?”

“He’s my frog.”

Ribbit.

“You don’t have a… human person with you?”

“Well, I had my brother Wirt with me, but he got tired of trying to find the circus and went home,” He crossed his arms, shaking his head, “But I never give up! So I went to your house to ask for directions.”

“I don’t know the way, so now how do you expect to find this circus?”

“I’ll find a way! Anything’s possible if you set your mind to it, you know. An old lady told me that.”

“Uh-huh…”

Willow looked around. The forest looked more unwelcoming than usual. Could she really leave a child all alone? He was bound to get lost again.

She let out a sigh, “Let me grab some things and then I’ll help you find this circus, okay? You can wait downstairs.”

The boy beamed.

“My name is Willow,” She held her hand out to the boy, “What’s yours?”

He took her hand without hesitation, “My name is Gregory, but most people call me Dr. Cucumber.”

Willow raised her eyebrow and giggled.

“Okay I lied,” The boy looked down, “Everyone usually calls me Greg.”

She smiled, “Let’s hurry Greg, we need to find that circus.”